


Two Men, One Tent, and a Million Stars

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-07
Updated: 2004-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian ponders over recent events and then gets a phone call.  Takes place during 413.





	Two Men, One Tent, and a Million Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Entering his plush hotel room, Brian smirked to himself as he eyed his designer tent. The rest of Liberty Avenue was toughing it out in the Canadian wilderness, stepping in bear shit and killing monster mosquitoes. Poor schmucks.

Running his fingertips over the tent’s plastic material, his thoughts flew 3000 miles, landing in the bed of a certain Hollywood visitor. Pretending Justin was better off in Brett Keller’s superficial world was going to prove difficult.

Shedding his clothing, Brian walked into the tiny bathroom, massaging the kinks in his lower back leftover from the short flight to Toronto. Twisting the shower nozzles, his hand reached out to test the water’s temperature. Once the spray grew warm enough, he stepped inside, pulling the curtain behind him.

The water took over the massage, surprisingly pressurized to near perfection. Brian shut his eyes, drifting back through the day’s events.  
He and Justin had eaten a quick breakfast of toast and orange juice, quietly lost in their own thoughts. Their shower had involved two long, soothing blowjobs in between mutual soaping.

Brian’s flight had been scheduled two hours after Justin’s, so he had volunteered to drive him to the airport, never mentioning his own trip. Of course, he knew Justin was well aware of his intentions. He always had been.

Justin had refused to let Brian park, insisting he was ‘all grown up now’. Leaning over the console, he had kissed his cheek sweetly, making Brian promise not to do anything stupid if he decided to do the Liberty Ride. Without waiting for a reply, he had opened the door, grabbing his one shabby carry-on, and disappeared in the chaos of the Thursday morning airport. Brian had sat in the Corvette, watching Justin’s retreat until a disgruntled minivan honked its impatience.

Six hours later, he had arrived in Toronto and checked into his expensive hotel. After preparing himself for a night on the town, he had headed to the famed Church Street to try one a couple of Canada’s premiere fags. The street had been oddly familiar, as was Moosie’s, the bar he had chosen to begin his night.

Brian had tried to ignore the ache in his gut every time his eyes lingered on a blond-haired patron.

Now, as he washed his hair with his own imported shampoo, Brian’s thoughts replayed Michael’s proposal confession. At first he hadn’t been able to fathom why Michael would want to get married. They were queer, gay, faggots; not some heterosexual pricks who needed the vindication of church officials and presidents to fuck whomever they wanted. Hadn’t Michael always agreed with him on this? Since they were 14? But as he ruminated over the subject throughout the evening he had come to a few startling conclusions.

His entire life, Michael had been his echo, his shadow, his vindication. As long as Mikey agreed with him, how could he be wrong? Michael added a level of unquestionable humanity to his beliefs. If someone else challenged him, so what? The most caring, selfless person in the world believed in him, and loved him unconditionally.

But tonight, for the first time, Michael had challenged his deep-rooted beliefs. Maybe challenged wasn’t quite the right term. Brian still didn’t believe marriage was a viable option for him, but for Mikey and the Professor it made sense. And marriage making sense wasn’t something he was accustomed to. How could he argue that Michael, and any other queer for that matter, wasn’t worthy of every human right granted to heterosexuals? In his revelation, Brian realized in many ways he had been no better than the corrupt, pussy politicians he berated.

Pushing the unsettling debate aside (hadn’t introspection always made his dick soft?), he rinsed the soap from his hair and wrapped one of the loft’s maroon towels around his waist. Even though many things ‘used to be’, hotel supplies were, and always would be, crap.

Standing in front of the mirror, Brian grabbed his toiletry bag, searching for his razor and shaving cream. Before he could apply the lather, he heard his cell phone ring. Tripping in his calm, collected rush, he grabbed the phone on the fourth ring.

“Kinney.”

“Taylor.” Justin’s voice mocked Brian’s business tone.

“Fuck you, twat. Why aren’t you out playing with all the pretty boys in WeHo?” The clock on his bedside table read 1:00 am. In Hollywood it was only 10, plenty of time for Justin to get in deep dick trouble.

“Brett’s having some friends over, so I thought I’d just stick around here. Kind of jetlagged from the flight. I got stuck next to this really annoying woman who wanted to see pictures of my beautiful girlfriend.”

“What the fuck? You told her you liked pussy?”

“Hell no! I repeatedly told her I was gay, probably close to 100 times. She’d just giggle like it was the funniest fucking thing she had ever heard.”

“You should have shown her a picture.”

“Why do you assume that I *have* a picture.”

Brian didn’t answer, grinning at Justin’s attempt at denial.

“Fuck you, asshole. I just didn’t have anywhere else to put the damn thing. You so look like shit in it.”

Now he laughed out loud. “I have never looked liked shit in my life, Sunshine. Cancer and fake ball be damned!”

“I miss you.” His voice sounded wistful and far away.

“That’s just because you haven’t found the perfect movie star cock yet. Give it time.”

“So what’s your excuse?”

“Excuse for what?”

“Don’t play dumb, dickhead. Why aren’t you fucking some hot, Canadian trick so hard the whole hotel can hear him scream?”

“Who says I’m in a hotel?”

Justin snickered. “Well, its not like I hear any crickets chirping.”

“Shut up about crickets already and tell me how much you want to suck my cock.”

“Get in the tent.”

“What?”

“Get in the tent and then I’ll tell you how much I want to deep throat all nine inches of your cock.”

Justin knew just how to play him. Brian climbed out of bed to retrieve the tent.

“And Brian, it’s a pop-up tent. I figured you’d have problems trying to nail the bitch into the ground. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail or anything.”

“One more word Sunshine, and I’m hanging up.”

“No you won’t. You still want to hear about how I’ll reach down to finger my hole as you grab my hair and thrust your hips towards my face, burying my nose in your pubic hair.”

Brian’s erection strained against the towel.

“I can just picture that fucking smug look of yours. Why the fuck do I have to be the only one in a tent?”

“You’ll be in the tent, and I’ll be outside under the stars.”

Justin could feel Brian’s smile. He could also hear Brian’s feeble attempts at opening the tent. The muffled curses were a dead giveaway.

“Jesus Christ, Brian. Didn’t you ever go camping as a kid?”

“Not exactly. The only camping I’ve ever done was on Liberty Avenue. Why the fuck did you have to buy such a monstrosity?”

“I thought we’d be sharing.”

“With what, a bear?”

“With each other, bitch.”

Finally, the tent popped into placed. Brian placed it on the queen sized bed and fumbled his way inside. Justin heard the sounds of his body rubbing up against the fabric. He had made his way onto the guest house’s roof, excited about the notion of being naked out in the open as he had hot, passionate phone sex with Brian.

“Are you naked, Brian?”

“Obviously.” He had tossed the towel aside before getting in the tent.

“Me too. I’m on the roof, looking up at the sky.”

“Are you sure it’s not just a layer of smog?”

“Does smog have stars?”

“I thought you were going to astonish me with your witty repartee?”

“I just thought you should be able to picture my surroundings. I would think it adds to the effect.”

“Ben and Michael are getting married.”

“What?!”

“It’s legal here, so they’re gonna join the masses of the respectable now. Little Mikey’s all grown up.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled.”

“I’m happy for Mikey. Of course, I’m gonna be his best man. I tried to convince him that everyone would be staring at me instead of the happy couple, but he never listens.”

“Debbie’s going to be a mess.”

“She got engaged too. To the Detective. Now her, Carl, and Emmett are going to set up house together. President Dumbass is probably rolling over in his grave as we speak.”

“Bush isn’t dead.”

“Whatever the fuck.”

“Sounds like Canada’s a lot of fun.” Justin yawned into the phone.

“Sleepy, Sunshine?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day. You need your sleep for the ride tomorrow.”

“Yes, mother. You go rest that dainty little head of yours and get ready to wow all the Hollywood bigwigs.”

“Don’t go yet.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am, but don’t hang up.”

“You want me to sing you a lullaby?”

“How the hell would that be conducive to a good night’s sleep?”

“Fuck you, I have a lovely voice.”

“Yeah right. I’ve heard Michael’s tapes from your ‘rock star’ days.”

“I’m hanging up, brat.”

“Okay. Have fun tomorrow. Be safe so I can fuck your brains out when I get home.”

“Yes, dear.”

Brian listened as Justin clicked the phone off. Once the dial tone started, he shut his own phone. Curling up inside the tent, he assured himself that the only reason he remained inside the fucking contraption was laziness. Across the border and a large mass of land, Justin wrapped himself inside a blanket, still on the roof. Both men fell soon fell asleep, one in a tent, and the other under the stars.


End file.
